The Book of Love
by heroofmyownstory
Summary: "There are all kinds of love in this world, but never the same love twice." / Sirius Black's romances throughout the years. SBXOC and eventual JPXLE
1. Slytherin - Part I

**THE BOOK OF LOVE**

Description: Sirius Black's romances throughout the years, with girls from each of the four Hogwarts houses (partially inspired by F. Scott Fitzgerald quotes.)

The romances will be recounted in chronological order and are all inter-connected, one stemming from the other like intertwining tendrils. Four sections are dedicated to each important relationship in Sirius's life, which are then further divided into chapters. The length of each section depends on the complexity and length of each romance.

We will begin with Slytherin, Ethel of the Greengrass family being Sirius's first notable paramour.

.

.

.

 _Slytherin: Part I_

While Sirius Black had numerous crushes growing up (after all, didn't they say Hogwarts had the prettiest girls out of all the Wizarding schools in Europe?), the first woman to catch his attention – and the first one to make him fall in love – was, without the shadow of a doubt, Ethel Greengrass. Before Sirius knew Hogwarts, or any life beyond blood supremacy and emotional oppression, he knew Ethel.

Ethel was a descendant of the Greengrass family, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight families compiled by the author of _The Pureblood Directory,_ Cantankerus Nott.

Out of the limited pool of pureblood families there still existed by the 1970's, both the Black and Greengrass family often had to not only tolerate but spend time with even those they didn't particularly like if they wanted company. Fortunately, they found they quite liked each other; both families were arrogant to the point of hubris, so confident in their own superiority it was a surprise they didn't look down on each other. They reveled in the plight of even their fellow purebloods, and adored ranting over the fall of Hogwarts and the Wizarding World now that it not only tolerated but welcomed into their midst with open arms those they considered to be of lesser lineage.

However, their relationship wasn't without strain. It was only a matter of time before their explosive personalities initially resulted in a fiery argument that burned them all. After lot of drinking, somehow the conversation was steered in the direction of the Greengrass family's lacking finances, which were understandably a sore topic. Walburga Black's mouth, however, got even bigger under the influence of alcohol. However, neither family showed any willingness to admit fault or to assume responsibility in any situation, which led to particularly prolonged and heated arguments. It took only one snide remark for Pandora's Box to open, and all the bad blood between the families was immediately spilled.

As always in such instances, Ethel's mother Seline had the presence of mind to call upon the House Elf to take the children into one of the upper bedrooms, hopefully out of earshot, to spare them of what was to follow.

However, on the particular night our story begins, the fight escalated so loudly that there wasn't a moment that either female screeching or the shattering of plates couldn't be heard one minute or the other, reverberating in the walls of the Black mansion. The other, less audible sounds could have meant anything from slightly less loud yelling to even a wand fight breaking out. Anything was possible on such festive occasions – that night, for example, they were supposed to celebrate Orion's birthday party. Needless to say, it didn't turn out that well.

The three children – Ethel, Regulus and Sirius – sat in utter, uncomfortable silence in the latter's room. Then another porcelain plate was shattered against the floor, and unintelligible, male yelling was heard. Regulus suddenly could not take it anymore and burst out crying. He was yet still too young to be able to fully grasp the situation; all he knew was that he felt it was infinitely wrong, that it scared him, and that he desperately wanted it to stop.

"What's happening?" he ground out between sobs. Big, fat tears trickled down his reddened cheeks as he sniffled furiously. Ethel fished out a handkerchief from the pocket of her robes and handed it to her. He took it and blew his nose into it obediently as Ethel began caressing his back to soothe him. "Please, tell me what's happening? Why are they arguing again? Why can't they stop?"

Sirius and Ethel exchanged glances. Was there a way to reply to that without getting him even more upset?

Sirius, agitated, attempted to deal with the situation as his father habitually did when he showed any signs of weakness: "Just shut up and suck it up," he snapped. He stood up from the bed and went over to his desk drawer only to begin rummaging in it frantically.

"Sirius!" Ethel snapped, aghast.

Sirius just shrugged irritably and stood up from the bed and went over to his desk drawer only to begin rummaging in them frantically.

Ethel and Regulus were both very sensitive. However, in Ethel Sirius saw a strength and autonomy that in his opinion his younger brother was severely lacking. Oftentimes, Sirius found himself envious of the two of them for being allowed such luxuries as open displays of vulnerability. Ethel was her parents' only child, and since her parents had what was in the 70's of the Wizarding Community already considered to be antiquated notions of gender, treated her both as an imbecile and a princess. Regulus wasn't treated like a lesser being, merely coddled too much for his own good, because he wasn't the primary heir to the Black fortune. As a result, Orion Black didn't insist on forcing his Draconion views of childrearing upon him in order to create a "suitable" heir to their tremendous legacy. It was more pressure that an eleven-year old child could possibly bear. As a result, he desperately envied both Ethel and Regulus for their situations, but Ethel always told him not to.

Angry at his lack of comprehension regarding anyone's issues but his own, Ethel one day decided to enlighten Sirius about her situation: "Why on Earth are you jealous, Sirius? I don't understand you at all. Sure, I get to do whatever I want – in your opinion…" She did not want to go into the more sordid details of her relationship with her parents or the general atmosphere of the Greengrass Mansion, either. "…but at what price? I live every day of my life knowing that my parents don't think I'm good enough. They don't expect anything from me because they don't think I'm capable of greatness – or much anything, really. They think… they think – they _both_ think – that all I should care about is dresses and hairstyles and finding the 'right man to marry.' No, you have no idea what that feels like because everyone is so _awed_ by you, like your Merlin's second coming! I would give my right arm for my parents to want me to be the heir instead of _Admon._ "

Up to that point, Sirius had been left perplexed to the point of anger regarding Regulus's jealousy of him. Previously, he didn't think there could be anything worse than being forced into a destiny he had never chosen nor wanted. However, seeing the torment on Ethel's face on that day many a moon ago, he was forced to realize that living as an afterthought, in the shadow of another, was infinitely worse than being someone's first choice for the honorable role of a pureblood family's heir.

"What are you looking for?" Ethel asked curiously, snapping Sirius out of his reverie as she put a comforting arm around Regulus, who then stopped rocking himself back and forth to calm down to instead lean into Ethel like she was his mother.

 _Merlin, he is so weak,_ Sirius thought with a shiver of revulsion running down his spine, his features contorting with the emotion. Secretly, however, he was envious, wishing he could be afforded the luxury of displaying emotions perceived by his father as weak (and consequently, unbecoming of the heir of the Black fortune) and being coddled by their mother (also thought of as unbecoming of the heir of the Black fortune.) Oh, what a good life it must have been, and Regulus didn't even realize how fortunate he was!

"You just wait," Sirius replied cockily, hoping to impress both of them with his newly acquired treasure. They were going to downright worship him for his audacity when he revealed to them how he had come in possession of it. As he continued rummaging for the box of Muggle board games he had stolen on his latest outing to Godric's Hollow with his parents during the night, after his family had dozed off. He always felt bad after stealing, but it gave him an adrenaline rush for several reasons: firstly, it was a challenge that he felt accomplished if he managed to complete; secondly, it was one of the greatest acts of rebellion against his parents, which naturally made it all the more worthwhile for him.

He had nearly overturned everything in his drawers; he had hidden it so well even he didn't seem to be able to find his forbidden treasure. That, and his little brother's incessant, pitiful whimpering finally set him over the edge. "Regulus, shut the hell up! Honestly, you're so pathetic." He hated how every single woman – especially those older than him, including Ethel – coddled his weakling of a brother. He was hurting just as much as Regulus, if not more, and no one paid him any mind; he was expected to deal with it on his own without any external help. Even when he managed, no one lauded him for this great accomplishment, but were always there to reprimand him for the slightest mishap. The inequality and unfairness of the situation was simply outrageous!

Sirius's reaction to his weakness made Regulus erupt in wails. Sirius suddenly became more irritated than he had previously thought possible. He realized that by yelling he had merely escalated things, and chose to remain silent, cooking in his own stew. Ethel wasn't quite so complacent, however.

"Oh, Sirius, great job!" she snapped, hugging Regulus even closer, who was more than ready for someone to be spoiled with undeserved attention. Sirius swore his little brother was just milking it both as a form of petty revenge on him and also to hog Ethel's attention. Sirius despised him.

However, his worst suspicions seemed to turn out to be false when eventually Regulus calmed down as Ethel talked to him kindly, softly, and compassionately, all the while caressing his back, as though some sort of temporary substitute for Walburga.

"There, I found it!" he said, victoriously brandishing the box of Muggle board games high up in the air. "Look!" he commanded, fighting for attention from their guest himself.

After a moment of consideration, Ethel merely raised her eyebrows superciliously, as though perplexed by what she was supposed to be impressed by. Regulus stared on impassively as though seeing his older brother for the first time. Obviously, he didn't recognize the box in Sirius's hands either.

"What's that?" Ethel asked at last, disgruntled. She disentangled herself from Regulus, who seemed lost in his thoughts – present physically, but presumably back in the dining room where their parents were still arguing over nothing – and scrambled up from the bed to amble over to where Sirius was sitting on the floor.

Fondness washed over him at the girl's reaction. She was the only one he knew who shared his rebellious fascination with Muggle culture and artefacts. He was closer to Ethel than his own flesh and blood. Theirs was a rare alliance in a pit of snakes.

"Is that a Muggle game?" Ethel asked in a hushed whisper, her grey eyes lighting up with excitement. Though she did her best to hide it, her voice trembled with curiosity. Sirius proudly handed over the box to the awed girl. "How did you get this?"

Then Ethel's eyes lost all their spark. "You're going to get in a lot of trouble for this," she said, suddenly awfully serious.

"Not if they aren't going to find out," Sirius said with a wicked grin, which Ethel returned, eyes gleaming with just the tiniest hint of awe. Ethel, though eternally struggling between remaining the obedient daughter her parents required her to be and following the dreams of her own heart, allowed herself to be swayed easily into rebellion. As the years progressed, her reluctance in indulging her curiosity increased, although her intense fascination with the forbidden remained. This night, perhaps under the emotional shock of yet another dinner gone horribly awry, she didn't try to fight it.

"You guys really shouldn't do that," Regulus suddenly piped up, surprising both of the older children. His tone was a warning, his expression stern, mirroring Orion's for a second. Regulus was awfully passionate about blood supremacy; in all other instances, however, he was merely an empty shell waiting to be filled, always following in the footsteps of those stronger than him, the unwavering crony of all the playground bullies.

"Why not?" Ethel demanded testily. She did not like her authority being challenged by someone who normally obeyed whatever he was told. However, the subject of blood supremacy, and his deluded conviction in his own superiority – to which Regulus, like all purebloods, seemed to hang on to as if they were fighting for dear life – rendered him fearless even in the face of two children considerably stronger than he was.

"Mom and Dad are going to catch us," Regulus said worriedly. "Haven't you heard?"

"What?" Ethel asked irritably.

The children remained quiet for a few seconds. "We don't hear anything, Regulus," Ethel said at last, voicing both of their opinions.

"Yeah, Regulus. You're just a coward," Sirius grumbled.

"That's exactly it!" Regulus insisted. "Nothing! They've stopped arguing!"

Silence fell upon the room as Ethel and Sirius turned to each other in panic: they both knew what this meant. Soon, the adults would ascend to Sirius's room to placate them for ruining the evening. Now silent, they all could hear what only Regulus had heard before: the slowly approaching, soft footsteps of Walburga Black. (Having lived with her in the same household for over a decade, Sirius could recognize the footsteps of each member of his family.)

Sirius tore the board game out of Ethel's hands and quickly stashed it away into the closest drawer he could find and then frantically began cleaning up the mess he had caused trying to find it. Equally panicked, Ethel joined. They could not see Regulus smirking contentedly behind their backs.

When the footsteps got dangerously close, both Ethel and Sirius did their best to assume unsuspecting, innocent positions on the floor as well as facial expressions. They mostly managed; however, that was precisely what aroused Walburga's suspicions. Her forehead creased with lines of suspicion and her blue eyes clouded when she turned to her older son.

"Sirius," she said, her tone threatening wrath. The blond woman slowly, menacingly began to approach his dark-haired son. Involuntarily, Sirius cowered slightly. But for all his fear, the eleven-year old boy faced the threat of his mother's anger head on. "What have you done now!?" Walburga demanded. It was obvious she was trying her hardest to remain calm, but the note of shrillness in her voice betrayed her.

"Nothing," Sirius insisted, a slight tremor in his voice.

Walburga, taking in the mess of random Wizarding artefacts and toys near his drawer, knew better than to let an obvious lie go. She swore under her breath, beside herself with anger. She aggressively pushed her son aside, whose head nearly hit the wall, and tore his desk drawers open one by one. In her blind rage she didn't immediately notice among the mess in each of Sirius's drawers the odd one out, the one thing that didn't belong with all the magical objects. Regulus's expression of anticipation faltered to be replaced by one of badly concealed disappointment.

Unable to take the suspense anymore, he said, "It's in the third drawer."

Ethel's jaws dropped open in disbelief, stunned and angered by the blatant and unabashed betrayal; the look on Sirius's face was simply indescribable. Hurt, shame and betrayal all contorted his face, and he suddenly became so white his pale grey eyes seemed vibrant in comparison.

Something in Ethel froze, and the notion of the importance of blood shattered in front of her eyes. Her chest constricted with an overindulgence of compassion, feeling his pain as though it were her own. Sirius was too ashamed to return her worried gaze; he was solely focusing on her mother, still searching for his forbidden toy, his stare a silent, but all the more pitiful plea to Merlin or whoever would listen to be spared the punishment that was undoubtedly to follow.

"It's right there," Regulus chimed up again; his voice was entirely helpful; he hid his impatience at the impending doom over Sirius's head well.

Ethel and Sirius both glared at him with all the hatred they could muster. That was the moment the proverbial cup overflow and Sirius snapped. "Shut up, you coward!" he screamed furiously, running towards his younger brother in a blind rage. The last thing Sirius registered was the upward curl of Regulus's lips, already reveling in how much trouble his bigger brother was going to get in for his uncontrolled temper. Sirius, however, was so livid he didn't care. All he cared about was causing Regulus as much pain as the latter had caused him; and if he couldn't cause him any pain emotionally, he was going to do it physically.

Before anyone could do anything else, Orion and Ethel's parents, Silene and Leonard Greengrass stepped inside the commodious room. "Hey, what's taking so long?" Orion asked in a light-hearted tone, unaware of what awaited him inside. Then the air in the room suddenly froze. Sirius and Regulus promptly stopped fighting, and even Walburga looked up at him in fear. A mere glance around the room was sufficient for Orion to be able to determine exactly what had happened. This scene, sadly, was all too familiar to him. They were the laughingstock of the pureblood community for their older son's behavior. Livid, he strode over to Sirius, grabbed him by the labels and began shaking him furiously.

Ethel swallowed hard, her heart furiously thudding against her chest. It was a disturbing scene to watch, and she felt a bile of vomit rising up her throat, which she fought hard to repress.

"One of your _Muggle_ things again, huh? Isn't it?" Sirius didn't reply, just stared in utter fear at his father. "How _dare_ you!? In my own house!? In front of my guests!? Corrupting their daughter's mind?"

Ethel didn't dare correct him.

"Have you no shame? No gratitude at all?" He let go of Sirius suddenly, who fell to the floor with a barely audible thud. Ethel released the breath she didn't even realize she had been holding in, relieved.

For a moment, they all thought that that was it; Orion, uncharacteristically, would be magnanimous enough to let this minuscule issue go just for the night, to salvage whatever was left of it, for their guests' and their own sakes. They thought that perhaps he realized that more than enough drama had ensued already to pursue this issue right there and then. How wrong they were.

Sirius stood up, dusting off his pants, a smug grin spreading across his face involuntarily, so relieved he was that he got off relatively scot-free this time. Then, as though sensing this relief, Orion turned back and slapped his son to wipe that _blood-boiling_ grin off his face, so hard that he flew back to the floor.

The pain and the humiliation was so intense, tears began to prickle against the sides of Sirius's eyes. In that moment, he hated his father more than words could possibly express. Ethel watched, paralyzed, wanting to but unable to avert her gaze. Before Sirius could recover from shock and reply, Leonard quickly said, "We'll just go then, I guess."

Orion suddenly seemed to remember their presence, and ran an agitated hand across his thick, black hair. "Oh – my –" he began to perspire, embarrassed. "I'm sorry – I'm so sorry you had to see that –"

"M-hm," Leonard said. "That's alright." His tone was dripping with sarcasm.

"We all have family troubles," Silene offered by way of consolation, but her eyes gleamed with malice. "Come on, Ethel, get up." She said, and her daughter stood up immediately to rush over to her side. Silene put an arm around her daughter and led her out of the room.

A desperate jealousy and eternal sadness washed over Sirius. The Greengrasses were the picture perfect pureblood family, and they treated their daughter nice… in his greatest act of self-betrayal, he toyed with the idea of giving into his parents' demands, stripping himself of all individuality and becoming exactly who they wanted him to be. _No,_ he thought, fired up. The more his parents would try to break him, the more he would resist. They were never going to break him in.

"I will walk you out," Walburga offered immediately.

"Not necessary," Silene said with a coy smile. "I think you have enough work to do here."

Walburga was stunned into silence. She dropped her arms angrily. Orion and Leonard exchanged a meaningful glance, and before another argument erupted, Leonard quickly said, putting an arm around Walburga friendlily, "No, please walk us out. My wife was just trying to be helpful. But we appreciate your kindness greatly. Please, walk us out."

Walburga glanced at Orion for what to do, who nodded just slightly. Suppressing a sigh, Walburga gruffly said, "Follow me," and lead them out of the room. Ethel reluctantly allowed herself to be dragged away from the scene unfolding behind her. She kept glancing back worriedly, but then Orion shut the door behind her abruptly. The last thing she saw was Regulus's overconfident smirk, which was enough to confirm her worst suspicions. Her stomach churned in disgust.

The low, unintelligible but all the more menacing murmurs coming from Sirius's room would haunt her all the way home.

Once downstairs, the Greengrasses took turns using the fireplace to Floo back to their own mansion.

Depression weighed down her shoulders as she stepped out of the fireplace, slightly dirty from the travel. Her mother quickly whisked her wand out to clean them all up, ("Scurgefy!") and then turned to her husband. Their eyes lit up and they burst out laughing. The sound hurt Ethel's ears. A wave of fury washed over her, unable to comprehend what they could possibly be laughing about right now.

"Serves them right, the lofty lot of them! To have a son like that!" Silene said at last.

"Always going on about how good they are," Leonard said, shaking his head, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. "Better than us, because of how much money they have!"

They stepped over to the dining table and poured themselves a glass from the bottle of Firewhiskey left on the table, as though celebrating something. They always drank a little alcohol before going out, to "put themselves in the mood," as they said.

Silene giggled. "Pour me some, honey," she requested, and Leonard promptly obliged. She took a generous sip from it. "This is a time for celebration! I hope that kid breaks them apart," she said.

"To Sirius!" Leonard exclaimed, and husband and wife clinked glasses, celebrating the demise of a family they called their friends.


	2. Slytherin - Part II

**THE BOOK OF LOVE**

.

.

.

 _Slytherin, Part II_

 **A** week after the fiasco of Orion's birthday party, the Greengrasses gave into the Black's incessant begging and finally allowed Sirius to come over to their house and spend time with their daughter. Orion and Walburga desperately hoped that Ethel's deference to her parents would rub off on Sirius – little did they know that their friendship only added fuel to the fire of Sirius's convictions. No one, not even her parents, had even the tiniest inkling who Ethel truly was deep down inside. She was constantly fluctuating water trying to be held down by the immutability of Sirius's beliefs.

That Saturday evening, the Greengrasses were planning to attend a social function – for purebloods only, naturally – and were getting ready in the parental bedroom while their House Elf Po watched over the children, who were currently playing Exploding Snap in the utmost silence. They never said anything of any interest or importance with their parents within earshot. It would merely result in the direst of consequences.

"Your move," Sirius said quietly, bored out of his right mind, and also agitated as he was unable to discuss the things that were pressing down on his heart. For a week now, he had been craving companionship and honesty and compassion. He had gotten none. He had counted the minutes till this encounter, to be perfectly honest.

Ethel nodded and moved her pieces on the board. Sirius bit his lip, deep in thought, wondering how to counter her move. Ethel smiled slightly at the expression of utter consternation on his face. Suddenly, breaking Sirius's train of thought, Seline and Leonard stepped into the room, the former rummaging in her ivy green handbag for something. The children turned towards them, impatient for them to finally leave.

"You got everything?" Leonard asked.

Seline seemed to have found what she had been searching for in her bag and nodded, "Yes."

"Alright then, let's go," Leonard said, badly concealing the note of impatience in his voice. He turned to Sirius and Ethel and smiled at them brightly, "Goodbye, children," he said affectionately, surprising even Ethel. Seline pulled a face and said, "Goodbye," in a much less amical tone as though to compensate for her husband, and shot Sirius a supercilious glance before turning away with a smirk and following her husband out of the house.

"She doesn't like me very much, does she?" Sirius asked, pulling a face a few moments after the door was shut.

Ethel pulled a face, "Sorry," she said. "She wouldn't like me much either, if she…" she never finished her train of thought. "I mean, she would. Like your parents love you. Just… not like this. I don't know. Let's not talk about this, OK?" she asked, then burst into nervous laughter.

Sirius just smiled. Perhaps she was on the right track again. Perhaps he would finally get back his partner in crime, not this half-hearted shadow thereof. Her self-deluding, eternally sad rambling ignited a fire within his chest that had been barely flickering for a long time. Companionship gave him strength and courage.

"No, no," Sirius said. "It's unfair. It's unfair that we can't just have a different opinion," he said, and the next words spilled from his mouth like water from an overflowing sink; he had been repressing his emotions all his life and it finally got too much to bear, too heavy a burden to carry alone. "They hurt me… they _hurt_ me, Ethel…" he began sobbing, despite himself, and as much as he wanted to stop the waterworks from flowing, he came undone in her arms. He sobbed into her sunken chest, feeling pathetic and hating himself more than ever for this open display of vulnerability – of weakness –

Ethel kissed the top of his head, as her mother kissed hers when she was sad, at a loss for what else to do. She couldn't process it: Sirius Black, the toughest, bravest person she knew breaking down in front of her. She knew this time he didn't just mean the usual emotional pressure they used on him; this time, it was something far more serious, far more sinister. Even her parents hadn't thought the Blacks would resort to such despicable tactics as to use dark magic on their son – what had the world come to? His sobbing made her heart break and she was on the verge of tears herself, but as always throughout the course of their relationship, one of them had to stay strong for the sake of another. This time, that role fell on her.

He leaned into her, shattered and looking for a little strength to borrow, and he was heavy in her arms, but she found herself more than capable of weathering the storm, finding in herself an invincible spring that she couldn't quite define. It felt warm to the heart and disturbing to the mind. She did not know what it was or even how to define it. It would have scared her, if it weren't so pleasant.

Sirius, on the other hand, was too immersed in his own thoughts to be able to properly appreciate what was going on between them. He felt pathetic and struggled to find some sort of strength in himself, as though looking for a little life in winter, to be able to recompose himself and conceal how weak he felt. My, how angry and disappointed his father would be if he could only see him right now…

"I never want to go back," Sirius said, abruptly disentangling himself from her, the stray tears in the corners of his eyes the only reminder of his previous show of weakness. His chest was no longer sunken, his back straight, facing the world head on as he usually did. She didn't understand how he did it, or from where he was able to conjure so much strength from when a minute ago he had been lying in her fragile arms, broken, seeking comfort and love as a band-aid for a kind of pain she couldn't understand and would probably never experience. All she knew was that already missed the warmth of his touch; she longed for genuine human affection and relationships that didn't hinge on her pretending to be something that she was not. "I can't go to Hogwarts. I won't go. I won't do what they ask – I –" Sirius began, too overtaken by emotion yet again to be able to formulate his thoughts.

"Sirius, calm down," Ethel said impatiently. "We _will_ go to Hogwarts. Don't be silly! How else will we learn magic?" Sirius seemed to contemplate what she was saying and then nodded his assent after a few seconds. He looked up at her with those pale irises of his, and she could see she longed for guidance just as much as he did despite the act he put on. This time, she had to play the parent, as neither of them had any adults to really fill that role. "We'll go to Hogwarts, and it'll be good because our parents won't be there. We'll have each other there. We'll protect each other. We won't be separated." The most agonizing times for both of them were when they were forced to be apart, deprived of the most honest and loving relationship they both had.

Sirius contemplated her words and seemed to be appeased by them, if only temporarily. "Alright, then – we'll go to Gryffindor!" he declared suddenly, his eyes lighting up with the brilliance of his idea.

Ethel's mouth dropped open, then, when she got over her initial shock, said, "No, Sirius, we can't go to _Gryffindor_ ," She sounded increasingly irritable. "Our parents would never allow it. Gryffindor is – is the house of the riff-raff –" she seemed to be brainstorming for an adequate reason to object to his plan, but found herself unable to come up with anything.

Sirius rolled his eyes, having heard these same words too many times from his own parents to believe that this notion was truly Ethel's heartfelt conviction. He knew her, even if she tried to deny who she was to her own self out of her pure cowardice… Because it was cowardice, plain and simple; he could not delude himself as to Ethel's true nature anymore. It had gotten for too obvious for that. Not to mention, willful ignorance hadn't gotten him anywhere before with her, and wouldn't in the future either.

"It will be great!" Sirius insisted, naively believing that he could get her to fess up and join in on his plan. He believed his was the greatest course of action for the both of them at this point. "We'll be able to protect each other – our parents and their ideology won't be able to – to touch us there – "he said, gesticulating wildly, eyes alive with a fire Ethel had never before seen in his eyes.

"Sirius," the blonde interrupted. "If your parents did this to you, what do you think _my_ parents do to _me_?" There, it was out. She hadn't meant to say it but as the worlds left her mouth, so seemed the weight that had been pressing down her shoulders for so long finally lift as well. Immense relief washed over her, along with disbelief that she had actually admitted something about herself that she was ashamed of. Nevertheless, speaking the truth set her free.

Sirius suddenly couldn't find the words to reply.

"I mean…" Ethel continued, blushing furiously. The feeling of relief suddenly passed to be replaced by the sting of self-humiliation. She always regretted shows of vulnerability and honesty after the feeling of relief passed – which it did, each and every time. She really didn't know why she thought this time would be any different. "Look – I have ambitions and things left to do here – I want to become my parents' heir…" She was rambling out of desperation, just talking to fill the space between them, a gap that seemed to increasingly widen with each wrong word and miscommunication.

"What do you care about that?" Revitalized by anger, Sirius seemed to have found his voice again. "They're horrible! Who cares about their money?"

"I do, Sirius," Ethel said. "I do!" She decided she wasn't going to be ashamed of her ambitions anymore. "I want the family fortune! I deserve it. I deserve it more than Admon and I don't want to live without it."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Sirius asked, standing up. Ethel followed suit hurriedly, panicked.

"No, Sirius – "

"It's just money, Ethel, it means nothing!"

"Not to you. You've never lived without it. You have no idea. But when I was born, we had nothing – _nothing_! There were days I went without _eating._ If Uncle Alphard hadn't left us a _fortune_ in his will –"

"OK! I'm sorry," Sirius snapped irritably, struggling to recompose himself. "Let's not talk about this, OK?" He feared losing her friendship if this argument escalated.

"OK," Ethel agreed gruffly, much for the same reasons. The two children grudgingly resumed their game of Exploding Snap. Nothing was said for a while, and Sirius allowed relief to wash over him, believing the storm to have passed. He couldn't have been farther from the truth.

After much internal torment, Ethel finally spoke up, "Sirius," she said. "All you'd have to do is pretend a little and you would have the best life ever." This was an issue that had long bothered her, a mystery she could find no logical answer for no matter how hard she tried to unravel it.

Sirius looked up at her, contemplated responding but then just shook his head and moved his pieces on the board. "Let's not talk about this," he repeated stubbornly.

"No, Sirius, we have to," Ethel insisted. "This is – the issue with me and you. We deal with our problems differently. It's going to come up eventually, even if we push it aside right now." It always did. She could no longer ignore the elephant in the room. She feared the longer they pretended their problems didn't exist, the worse it would be when they finally acknowledged their existence. It had gotten bad enough as it currently was.

"Yes, we do," Sirius said, and he could not hold himself back anymore. "You're a coward, and I'm not."

" _Excuse_ me?" Ethel said snappily, and the image of the soft-spoken, prim and proper girl was gone promptly as she turned from a maiden to be saved into a dragon. "I'm not a coward! _Excuse me_ that I find loyalty to my family more important than fraternizing with a bunch of Muggleborns! Why should I risk everything for people I don't even know?" Sirius didn't say anything, and Ethel took that as her cue to proceed, "Being Pureblood is a privilege! It grants you access to things people really only dream of!"

"I've said it once and I'll say it again," Sirius said, his voice laced with repressed fury and severe disappointment. "You're wrong. And yeah, maybe you're not a coward, but then you're just deluded, and that's not much better,"

Ethel suddenly felt a sort of fury that she had never felt before, that only Sirius's sharp tongue would get her to experience. "I'm not a coward and I'm not deluded! I'm just rational! Do you want to be hurt by your parents for the rest of your life? For ideals? For people you don't even know? You're just rebelling because that's who you are – you never like people telling what to do, no matter whether they're right or wrong. You just do what you want because you're Sirius Black. Well, you're not infallible. And I'm not going to jeopardize my life to remain _your_ ideals! I have never even met a Muggleborn!"

"Do you think that's normal? That they're keeping us locked away from the world?" He wanted to contest every wrong notion in her speech, but she cut in before he could continue.

"I'm sure they aren't doing it to hurt us, Sirius. They're our parents," Ethel said.

"If you think you're better than Muggleborns and Half-Bloods, you're an idiot too!" Sirius simply couldn't contain himself, no matter how much she tried for her sake. "The Minister for Magic is Muggleborn, yeah? And you know Arnie MacMillan, don't you? He's pureblood but he still hasn't showed signs of magic yet. His parents are freaking out –" He said, reveling in the demise of the Purebloods he so hated.

"He's the exception that makes the rule stronger!" Ethel cried in desperation. "Come on, Sirius! Arnie's the only one you know and you're _no_ Arnie MacMillan." She said it as though that somehow made him better than girls and boys of different lineage to theirs. She seemed to really believe it. "Besides, Fudge is only Minister because – as – as a statement to show how inclusive our society's become –"

"Merlin's beard," Sirius said disgustedly. "It's like I'm hearing my mother. If you really think this way, I want nothing to do with you."

The day Ethel had feared, when she had to make a choice between friends and family, had come. But the choice was clear: blood was thicker than water, as she had been taught from a young age, and she wasn't going to jeopardize her potential and her future and give up the gifts of being Pureblood when for more than a decade now she had suffered for it (or so she perceived); she was going to go through all the way, accomplish her ambitions and then, when she was independent, break free from her parents. She wasn't going to give up all that for a friend.

She really wanted to say what he wanted to hear in order to keep him in her life. But that would have been a lie.

"Fine." she said at last.

Sirius's face fell, but the look of hurt and shock was quickly replaced by one of defiance and anger. "Fine." He repeated angrily.

After years of struggle, they had finally reached a point of no return; their paths, for so long entwined, finally diverged. It was the end their chapter in each other's story. They had both dreaded this day so long, but suddenly, the loss didn't feel as severe as they had feared – or at least, their convictions in their respective resolves more right than cutting each other off felt wrong. Maybe, they thought, their friendship just wasn't meant to be.

"I'm leaving, then," Sirius seemed, but his voice shook. He started walking towards the fireplace, but his liquid grey eyes seemed to implore Ethel to invite him back, and suddenly he seemed breakable as glass, all traces of the previous, fiery rebel gone.

But once Ethel made up her mind, she followed through with her resolve. She only folded her arms across her chest and said, "Go."

It wouldn't have been rational to maintain their friendship. The great divide that had once again caused strife between the two of them would always be there. No matter what Sirius thought, she wasn't a girl who was afraid of her parents. She was just a girl that had her own set of ideals and as the years progressed, they got increasingly different to Sirius's.

Sirius, back hunched and head hung low, went over to the fireplace. He grabbed the Floo Powder from the urn above the mantelpiece and entered the fireplace, preparing himself for departure. With one last look at Ethel, he said, as though a last act of revenge for what he undoubtedly perceived as betrayal, "You deserve your fate anyway!" Before Ethel could react, he had already vanished in a puff of flames.

Oh, how quickly all love had turned to hate.

* * *

A/N: Reviews are love!


	3. Slytherin - Part III

**THE BOOK OF LOVE**

.

.

.

 _Slytherin, Part III._

 **T** hree weeks passed. The longer they have ever gone without seeing each other. They missed each other – more than they thought they would – but then they reminded themselves why they ended their friendship, and the unshakable feeling of absence and wrongness temporarily lessened.

Sirius's parents were furious with him for ruining what they probably thought was an adequate love match to come. Sirius couldn't care less for his parents' reproach – wasn't that what they did all the time, anyway? – it hardly came as a surprise anymore. The only thing he still marveled at was that they hadn't yet found anything severely wrong with his breathing that needed to be fixed.

Ethel's parents weren't initially exactly satisfied with Ethel, either; the Blacks were a very rich family, and their own finances were sadly dwindling. They would have gladly married their daughter off to a man whose morality they disagreed with as long as then they could reap the benefits. But then Ethel told them the truth: Sirius kept trying to force his ideals on her, and she had gotten sick of it. After much contemplation, her parents decided they were satisfied with her actions. Initially, they had believed Ethel could truly be Sirius's saving grace - as Walburga always insisted -, the one to get him to come over to the right side of history. However, that theory seemed to be failing royally now. This time, he really crossed a line in their opinion.

"I told you that boy was trouble from the start," Silene said during dinner the day following Ethel's announcement and subsequent explanation. Then she turned to the House Elf currently serving them their food. "Po, this salad was horrible. Make something better next time," she said off-handedly to the House Elf.

Ethel watched silently, remaining silent, hoping the Elf would notice her compassionate glance. "Yes, Ma'am, sorry, Ma'am," she said, giving a quick bow. The stomach made Ethel's insides churn.

"I thought the food was great, Mom," she spoke up suddenly. The Elf's miserable expression and her inexplicable servitude made her blurt the words before she could think them through logically. Then she burst into a wide smile, batting her eyelashes innocently at her mother, who looked on the verge of an emotional crises. "Didn't you think it was great, Dad?"

"Well, I mean, I don't know –" Leonard stammered, taken aback by the unexpected turn of events. Silene was glaring at him warningly, but his daughter flashed him a guileless smile.

"Well, anyway," Ethel said when she realized no answer was going to come from her father. "I thought it was great. Please, make it next time for me like this, Po, alright?" Po nodded, shocked at being talked to in such a manner. Ethel even smiled at the house servant.

"Did you just address the House Elf by name?" her mother demanded, aghast, after Po had left.

"Relax, Seline, we do this all the time too –" Leonard interjected quickly.

"No! But that tone!" Her mother was hysterical. "She's acting like – _i_ t's her friend or something! Honey," she continued, turning to her daughter. "We're not riff-raff. We don't stoop to that level." Silene sounded as though she were talking to a particularly thick child.

Ethel's eyes hardened. "I'm sorry, Mom," she said. "It won't happen again."

"I told you," Seline went on, abruptly turning to Leonard. "That boy was a bad influence on her! Look what she's turned her into! It's good she cut him loose. We raised her right."

 _As if he had the power to fundamentally change anyone's being_ , Ethel thought angrily, _He is not that strong, nor I am not so weak-willed_. She let nothing of her fury show and continued raging on the inside. She had chosen her technique a long time ago - and had found it to be working perfectly -, so she wasn't going to give it up now due to an overflow of negative emotions. Self-control, she reminded herself, was the winning technique in the long run. Everything else would just get her in trouble, much worse than Sirius's. Her mother, she knew, would turn on her faster Grindelwald's followers had once he lost the war. She, and her weakling of a father, wouldn't wait 11 years to use Dark Magic on her.

"He didn't turn her into anything," Leonard said, uncharacteristically snappy, "She just called the House Elf Po. She's just a nice, naïve girl. She's 11 for God's sakes! What is she supposed to be, experienced and cynical?"

"No! She's supposed to be _obedient_. Do what we tell her to. We're her parents, and we know better what's good for her. She's just a child."

 _You know exactly nothing about me_ , Ethel thought, still fuming.

"Please, stop arguing," she said, and started sniffing and crunching up her face as though beginning to cry. "This is making me really emotional –"

"Oh, God," Leonard said. "Look what you made her do!"

" _Make_ her!? She's 11, she's responsible for her own actions!"

"Wasn't she not though, a minute ago?"

"When she does well, it's because she follows what we tell her to do. When she does wrong, it's because she disobeyed. That simple. And you'd better remember that, young girl," Seline said, turning to her, wagging a finger at Ethel, eyes bugling out, all traces of sanity gone from her pale face, "you'd better remember all of our advice when you start school and get sorted into Slytherin – because that is where you'll be sorted, for your own sake –" (as though she could control the outcome of the Sorting) "if you follow your heart, you'll fail. If you follow your mind – as long as you remember what we've been telling you since you came out of the womb – then, and only then, will you triumph in life."

Tense silence followed the monologue. Ethel decidedly remained silent. Leonard, on her left, became increasingly uncomfortable.

"Now, now, Seline –" he began at last, trying to placate his wife.

"No!" Seline cried, drawing up a hand dramatically. "I'll leave. You blood traitors have all the fun you want while I'm gone, but I refuse to bear witness to this!"

Ethel knew, her father knew, they _both_ knew that Seline was partially just faking this outrage for attention. Seline had nothing but social functions to attend all day, where all the attendees were sick of each other already, as as Pureblood women didn't have many options when it came to socializing. Po took care of the house and cooked three meals a day, so she couldn't busy herself with housework either, because that would have been demeaning for a girl of her descent. Leonard also worked at the Ministry all day, so when she wasn't hating the company she was around, she was utterly bored. As a result, she was needy and clingy. With every action of hers, she cried out for attention, and she usually went about it passive aggressively. She bullied whoever was in distance, wanting to take out her misery on others – be it her House Elf, her daughter, or even her husband. "This dinner was terrible anyway!"

No one made a move to stop her. She even saw her father represse a sigh of relief once she was out of earshot.

Ethel wasn't entirely glad that her was gone. Seline, she knew, was brewing something in that cauldron of hers, and the longer she was left alone, the more drastic she became.

Leonard then tried to placate her, "I'm sorry, Ethel, she's just really stressed these days –"

Ethel glanced up at her father, pity and disdain in her grey eyes, and said, "I know," deferentially.

Leonard heaved a sigh of relief, completely oblivious to what would have been self-evident to anyone else but him. "Good, good. Now, may we resume eating? This food is delicious! Po, where the hell are you!?"

Ethel didn't say anything, just took a sip of her mineral water. She wished she could have Firewhiskey. The adults said it made all one's troubles go away. Maybe, it would put her in a more social mood too, as it did her parents.

 **. . .**

On September 1st, Sirius was ready to see _her_ again. Not that he didn't hate her; he still did, admittedly. But the line between love and hatred was so thin he often fluctuated between the two. He would remember their good times, which weakened his resolve of cutting her out of his life completely; then he remembered their fight; the ludicrous ideas she had espoused that he had all too often heard from his parents but wouldn't in his worst nightmares imagine hearing them from her; that awful, pitiless look in her eyes when she said, "Go," after he looked back at her desperately, begging her to ask him with a gaze, and he was disgusted with her again.

Ethel had always been taciturn and seven slightly mysterious, but after being her friend for as long as he could remember, he had honestly thought he knew everything there was to know about her, decoded the enigma that she was... in retrospect, he seemed to have grossly overestimated his mental capacities while underestimating Ethel's penchant for secrecy. Presently, he felt like such a fool.

But because so much of her still confused him and remained an utter mystery to him, he thought he might discover that their argument was merely an act she put on to convince herself that she wasn't cowardly. Because so much of her was left up to his imagination, he could imagine his preferred scenarios and project his wishes onto her. That was a dangerous game he was just beginning to discover how foolish it was to play.

 **. . .**

As his parents hurried Sirius towards the train, he thought he glimpsed _her_ , standing with her parents and a couple of relatives who had come to see her off, but Walburga pulled on his arm and merely said, "Keep walking, Sirius." before he could get a closer look. As his mother was stronger than him, he reluctantly obeyed.

Despite himself, Sirius suddenly felt a pang of jealousy that Ethel had relatives to come see her off. His parents had only come, dragging a most uninterested Regulus along, because it would have simply been embarrassing in the eyes of the Pureblood community not to do so. He felt a bile of bitterness rising up his throat, which he swallowed painfully.

Once having reached the carriages, they finally stoppeed, panting slightly from the hurry they had been in. Walburga then tried to give him a kiss before parting, but Sirius recoiled in exaggerated disgust (no matter how much he longed for his mother's affection) and said, "Mom, do you really have to do this? Can't I just go?"

Frustrated and hurt, Walburga scoffed and said, "Go."

"You'll kiss your mom goodbye," Orion intervened suddenly, his voice stern and his grey eyes unforgiving. "No but's. She birthed you, she feeds you, she takes care of you –"

"As if!" The House Elf does everything, he wanted to add, but didn't want to risk a slap in front of the entire train station.

"Do not make me do anything I'll regret, Sirius," Orion said threateningly, wagging a finger at Sirius.

"Fine," Sirius said, rolling his eyes theatrically, hiding his pain deep inside, "I hope you don't have herpes, Mom, by the way. I heard that's contagious,"

Walburga gasped in shock. Sirius grinned wickedly, satisfied with himself.

"Just where on Earth has this boy heard of herpes?" Walburga wondered out loud, scandalized.

"Whatever, just go," Orion said, _before you give your mother a heart attack._ He wanted to discipline his son – his son that he loved so much despite or precisely because of his strong-mindedness – but he didn't want to cause a scene. Perhaps that is why he had been so daring – because he knew his father wouldn't dare do anything he would regret in front of such a wide audience. Every single member of the Pureblood community was present, and words would spread faster than wildfire if he, acting as a lowly Muggle, would choose to discipline his son with physical force. No, he had to hold back. "I don't want to hear anything bad from you, boy," he said at last, looking Sirius into the eyes.

"OK, thanks, Father!" but Sirius was no longer listening. Dragging his suitcases behind him – which were obviously too heavy for a boy to carry –, he started mounting the train. A wry smile spread across Orion's lips despite his best attempts. Fondness rekindled his frozen heart. He helped Sirius left his luggage, and then clapped him on the back, despite himself, "Make us proud, my boy," but his eyes were already sparkling with fascination.

Sirius glanced at him briefly, then said bye on last time, not looking any of his family in the eye, and disappeared in a melee of Hogwarts students.

 _My favorite son,_ he thought, and sadness descended upon him like a cloud of rain over his head at the realization. He glanced briefly at his other son, and felt a wave of disappointment wash over him, just standing there, doing whatever he was told. He wanted Sirius to be the heir. Regulus was just a second choice, and not a particularly good one at that. He didn't want a survile Mommy's boy to take over his empire. But it seemed like he might have no choice in the matter.

 **. . .**

Sirius, overzealous and in a great hurry to find window seats in one of the compartments, accidentally bumped into another boy, who was about the same height as he was. "Hey, watch out!" the sufferer of his indescretions yelled, miffed.

The boy's glasses got knocked to the floor from the impact, and Sirius contritely got them for the kid who was apparently blind without them, squinting his eyes as though that was any help, and searching for his glasses on the other end of the aisle. Sirius smiled wrly, acknowledging how lucky this messy-haired kid was that he had him to pick up his glasses. Maybe it would have also helped if he hadn't bumped into him, but… details, details… who cared about those anyway, right?

"Uh – thanks, mate," the bespectacled boy said awkwardly, wondering if this was the appropriate response. Was it polite or impolite or just plain stupid to thank an idiot for fixing the trouble he had caused? "All the good seats that way are taken anyway."

"Yeah, your welcome, and sorry," Sirius said awkwardly. This was the first (possibly, hopefully) non-pureblood boy he had met on the way to his new life. He wanted to make a good impression. Not to mention, there was something about this boy that struck him as sympathetic and made him want to be his friend.

"No matter, it happens," the boy said, waving a hand. He looked like he was preparing to go, but Sirius quickly extended his hand, "I'm Sirius. And you are?" He purposefully didn't mention his last name.

"James," the boy said with a grin, shaking his hand then fixing his horn-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose. "You wanna sit together?"

And - as they say - _the rest is history._

 **. . .**

After a terribly fun Hogwarts Express ride, a half-giant of a man with a scraggly beard and beady eyes ushered them towards enchanted boats that then took them across the Lake to Hogwarts, a sight at which they marveled. He and James were equally spellbound by the sight of the magnificent castle, but they teased each other for staring at it with open mouths. While they said hatred was stronger than love, these few hours of happiness were able to nullify the experiences of the previous three weeks, spent in utter solitude, regretting every decision that had led up to that point. Now, all that forgotten when the promise of a new life was dangled in front of his eyes. Who knew there were others who shared his disdain for blood supremacy? He was beginning to think he was a unicorn, a breed bordering on extinction.

After they got off the boats, the oaf ushered them towards the castle building. One inside, a tall, slim, and brown-haired woman with a painfully tight-looking bun and rimless glasses took over. Every word of hers was stern and commanded respect. They followed her, heartbeats only accelerating the closer they got to the Dining Hall.

All the while, many of the first-years were whispering amongst themselves in terrified, hushed tones, wondering what the Sorting process could entail. Wizarding families liked to keep it a secret from their children, but some broke the tradition. As such, Sirius knew already what it entailed, but for the sake of others, didn't reveal it and ruin what would undoubtedly be a relieved surprise.

After McGonagall left briefly to "make sure everything was ready for the Sorting," Sirius stared at Ethel for awhile, willing her to return his gaze, but even though she could feel it burning into the side of her face, she refused to look at him. Eventually, Sirius tore his eyes away from her. Fortunately, James was too busy freaking out over what the Sorting could entail to care. Sirius was glad his show of weakness went unnoticed.

Then McGonagall returned, and finally they could enter the Dining Hall. Muggleborns, Half-bloods and Purebloods alike marveled at the beauty of the Castle's interiors. They were particularly awed by the enchanted ceiling and the floating candles. Judging from his parents' descriptions, Sirius had imagined Hogwarts would be a sort of over-glorified dump (ever since they let children of mixed or impure lineage attend.) Sirius was glad to discover it was yet another dramatic exaggeration on his parents' part simply because Dumbledore's beliefs differed from theirs.

Finally, the Sorting began. When James realized there was no troll-fighting involved, he pretended to be disappointed that he wasn't going to get to "pulverize the monster", but Sirius could see the badly concealed relief in his eyes and just laughed at him. "What? I mean it!" James insisted, but Sirius couldn't take him seriously.

His mirth faded as quickly as it had come. He had been telling himself that he desperately longed to be put in Gryffindor, but – so close to the moment of truth – the implication of his possible placement in the House of the Brave finally dawned on him, and suddenly, he felt more frightened than he had ever felt before. Only Merlin knew what kind of punishment his parents' sordid minds would come up with if he was put in the Red House. Then he steeled himself against the fear and told himself he couldn't allow it to get the best of him now, so close to achieving his goal, another milestone on the path to freedom. When he wasn't tormented by fear, he had made a logical decision to set himself on the path he wanted to walk: it would be most unwise to let emotions override his rationale.

The Sorting began, and all too soon, he heard his name being called. He froze down for a minute, and James had to nudge him to ascend the podium. His knees wobbled and he could barely hear his own panicked thoughts over the erratic beating of his heart. He took a seat on the wooden stool beside McGonagall, momentarily the center of attention. He could feel Ethel's gaze boring into his skin, and this time, he didn't glance up. He couldn't look her in the eye as he prepared to severe the last existing tie holding them together. He felt the Hat being placed on top of his head, and it felt as though the weight of the world was suddenly pressing down on him.

"Hmm," the Hat's voice spoke in his head, and the presence of another mind in his own scared him, "Another Black. I remember your parents, but I do. Both Slytherins to the core. But you, you are different. Not as different as you'd like to think, but different enough for this to be a difficult choice for me…"

"Gryffindor," Sirius thought desperately. "Put me in Gryffindor."

"The House of the Brave, oh yes," the Hat said, "I can see why you'd want to be put there. But all that ambition, that desire to prove yourself – that's very Slytherin, too."

"I know," Sirius said, not wanting to get into an argument about how un-Slytherinlike he really thought himself to be, "I'm begging you, please put me in Gryffindor. "Please, anything but Slytherin," he begged.

"Very well, then," the Hat said finally, "Let it be... _GRYFFINDOR_!"

After a moment of stunned silence, the Gryffindor table erupted in cheers. As he stepped off the podium, his eyes locked with Ethel's. Her nostrils were flaring, her eyes had a crazed look about them as though she were furious with him for abandoning her. _I won't jeopardize my future for you, either,_ he thought suddenly, wishing he could yell it in her face, unable to take that accusatory glance of hers. Suddenly, he thought he better understood Ethel's decisions and realized they hadn't been as illogical and stupid as he had initially thought them to be, but he quickly waved the thought away. As he sat down at the Gryffindor table, the unberable pang of emptiness slowly eased.

By all logical means, Ethel and Sirius both pondered, they should have already forgotten about each other. They had nothing in common anymore. Their tender feelings for each other were nothing more than a sign of weakness. They _had_ to forget about each other, eventually. The sooner, the better - the sooner, the stronger they were. And whoever forgot about the other first won.

But eleven years of tight friendship couldn't be erased by one simple misunderstanding. Eleven years of companionship couldn't be thrown out the window after only a matter of mere weeks.

 _Let's see what seven years of separation will do._

Perhaps because they both came from such pessimistic households, neither of them thought they would be anything more than perfect strangers by the time they finished Hogwarts.

 **. . .**

The Sorting Ceremony dragged on painfully. Eternity seemed to have passed until Ethel's name was called. Up to that point, she had both dreaded and anticipated the Sorting. When Minvera McGonagall finally called her name, fear took over. But her legs didn't tremble as she ascended the podium (a testament of her well-practiced, perfectly honed self-control.) She then sat down on the wooden stool, awaiting her predicament.

She suddenly found herself half-wishing to be sorted into Gryffindor alongside with Sirius. She felt a pang of envy for her bravery, but she valued her own life over a set of ideals she wasn't sure she agreed with just yet. She wanted to be reunited with the only person who knew and loved her for who she was... to be free of her oppressive parents... but she had made a logical decision before when she was still unaffected by such an overindulgence of emotion, and it would be a pity to cave in now to her childish desires. Logic was superior to emotion, at all times.

If she could have, she would have asked for guidance. She found this was too much for an eleven year old like herself to handle... but she couldn't ask her parents and it was too late to ask Sirius about this - not that it was possible to have a civil conversation with him about topics he was so incredibly passionate about. He was just a child as well, blinded by emotions more than she would ever be. What help could he have been of, anyway? He would have just attempted to sway her in the direction of his ideals, and though he probably didn't realize he was doing it, she didn't appreciate this sort of manipulation. It was no better than what her parents did, in her opinion. It was either this or that: no room for individual thought, for grey areas, just two opposing set of ideals.

Between black and white, she would always be a different shade of grey.

 **. . .**

The Hat was finally placed on her head, and it promptly began talking, snapping her out of her reverie and startling her slightly, "Well, well," it said. "What have we here."

Ethel gulped hard, heartbeat accelerating. She could barely hear the Hat's commentary above the sound of her erratic heartbeat. The Hat went on, oblivious or simply unperturbed:

"A great mind, what a great mind... but beyond the brilliance there are some troubling aspects to your personality... There are plenty of contradictions in your nature, more so than in the natures of most men… now, that is not necessarily a bad thing, young one... led by emotion as much as you are led by logic… Hmm... Fearful yet assertive, too…" the Hat sounded like it wasn't voicing everything it was thinking about her, but Ethel dared not ask. "Where to put you, now, where to put you?" the Hat was stalling. Ethel wasn't sure she wanted to influence its decision. Perhaps, the wisest choice would be to simply let Fate take its course. Or choosing to stay quiet would be the worst mistake of her life. She didn't think she could deal with the implications on making the wrong decision in such an important matter. She decided to voice her concerns, "I think I belong in Slytherin." She said.

"Yes, yes, I see why you would think that, but there's plenty else in here too..." the Hat said musingly, sounding in equal parts fascinated and frustrated by her contradictory nature. Ethel grew more and more tense by the second, not sure whether there was anything else she could say. It didn't appear the Hat was going to be swayed in a certain direction if it didn't think she belonged there. She remained silent. "Hmm… hmm… uh-huh…" the Hat proceeded.

The Hat stalled. Minutes ticked by, and Ethel grew increasingly nervous. The Great Hall waited with bated breath for the outcome. Even the older students were more attentive than usual. Hat Stalls were incredibly rare in Hogwarts History. "So much ambition... a thirst to prove yourself... yes... resourceful, certainly... cunning, undoubtedly... but there's more... so much loyalty, a suppressed desire for fairness and justice..." _I do not have_ \- "Now, now, my child, give me a moment to think..." the Hat said dismissively, and irritated, Ethel obeyed.

Time dragged on, each second feeling like an hour. Ethel felt strangely calm, knowing that the outcome was no longer up to her. She suddenly became aware of Sirius's gaze boring into the side of her face, and though she tried to ignore it initially, his stare burned her skin. She finally turned towards him, feeling uncomfortable with having every one watch every moment of hers so closely, but she was as drawn to him - despite logic, despite everything - as he was to her. When their eyes met, their gazes locked. She couldn't know how she looked on the outside, but she imagined she looked much like Sirius did in that moment: eyes gleaming with equal parts despeartion and hope, stripped of all their pride.

"Slytherin," she thought, turning away, shutting her eyes hard. " _Slytherin_." She repeated incessantly.

But the Hat seemed to pay her no mind, muttering to itself as a madman about her qualities.

"Slytherin!" the Hat suddenly yelled.

It took a few moments for it to dawn on Ethel. _Finally,_ she thought. She felt McGonagall lifting the Hat off her head, and it felt as though simultaneously she lifted off a great weight from her shoulders. A wide grin spreading across her face, she stepped off the podium, she almost ran to the cheering Slytherin table, ready to embrace her new life with all her might.

After sitting down at the Table and greeting everyone she knew (which was most of the table, actually), she suddenly became aware of a gaze burning the side of her face again. Reluctantly, she looked in its direction. The look of shock and hurt on his face was too much to bear, but she suddenly found herself unable to look away, like their relationship was some kind of trainwreck.

Suddenly, Sirius burst into a grin that Ethel could tell, even from so far away, was forced. He tried to be so cavalier about it, it angered her. _How dare you pretend this doesn't mean as much to you as it does to me?_ He then shrugged and raised an empty goblet in her direction in mock-congratulations. Ethel shot him the most condescending look she could muster, and looked away. The grin froze on Sirius's face. _So that's it,_ he thought.

And that was it.

She and he were no more. They were two separate entities orbiting different planets now.

"Grey, Gladys!" McGonagall called out. How he envied these first year students who were unfamiliar with the internal struggle they were both going through.

And before they were ready for it, the rest of their lives began.

 **. . .**

As Fate would have it, both would continue suffering for their choices long after that fateful day in August, even though one's path seemed obviously right and the other's obviously wrong. Whose choice was which, however, depended only on who you asked.


	4. Slytherin - Part IV

**THE BOOK OF LOVE**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 _Slytherin, Part IV._

 **F** rom that point on, it was only a matter of time till old friends became new enemies.

Their Gryffindor and Slytherin alliances widened the pre-existing gap between the two. Ethel's faith in her family's convictions only strengthened in Slytherin, just as Sirius's own did in Gryffindor. Their interactions, from then on, were few and far between and none of it was friendly.

It could have gone a thousand different ways. But just like in every life, there are decisive moments in one's fate that predetermines a great chunk of their life to follow, if not its entirety. As always, we are never ready for the test when we get it.

Their relationship could have gone a thousand ways. But Ethel's actions on the first day of school, during the first Slytherin-Gryffindor Potions class, set the tone of their relationship for their school years.

Initially, she had tried to keep her cool and think rationally. But little Ethel Greengrass was about to find out that negative emotions banished to the darkest recesses of one's mind have a tendency to gain strength in the unexplored, shadowy corners of one's soul, and resurface tenfold stronger.

At the beginning of class as the nervous, excited first years gathered, chattered and bustled about outside of Slughorn's Potions class, she wondered if Sirius still cared. Despite herself, she found herself missing the boy more than she had ever imagined. She tried to catch his eye without staring too obviously, but she found that a difficult task to manage. After a few failed attempts to remain both unconscious and obvious to the ever-oblivious boy, she decided he wasn't going to look her way no matter what, and proceeded to stare at him shamelessly. Finally, Sirius turned in her direction when she expected it the least, and her heartbeat accelerated furiously and her face went redder than the Gryffindor house logo. Sirius glanced at her briefly, then turned back to her friends, as though she was some sort of stranger creeping up on him. Their brief encounter, if we could even call it that, left him completely unperturbed. Her heart sank.

There was no love left, it seemed, where once was the greatest of friendships. They had been closer than they were to their own siblings, and neither of them knew anyone who got on as well with their siblings as they did with each other. But a new person seemed to have replaced the gaping hole her absence – she barely dared hope – had cut in Sirius's heart.

Her mother once said that it is always easier for those who leave than those who stay. Those who leave can start their lives afresh, while those who stay have to pick up the pieces. Her heart rose with anger. So that was what she was left to do? She would not pick up the pieces.

Ethel's heart sank. She couldn't imagine how he couldn't feel the things she felt. Was she really so easy to replace?

Feeling wronged and betrayed, Ethel wanted nothing less than to make amends. Led by blind rage and a wounded heart, it was only a matter of time before she gave her worst instincts free reign.

After they entered the classroom, she tried her hardest to tear her eyes away from Sirius and his new best pal James Potter, who – in her opinion – were shamelessly parading how good they felt in each other's company, how close they seemed to have gotten since the train ride. He barely knew him! And he already replaced her with him? Had he no shame? First he demanded that she give up her ambitions, plans and life to join him on a rebellious crusade against his parents, who – while they were certainly not the best – only wanted what they thought was best for him? Would he have also forgotten about her so quickly if she had complied with his wishes? Did he really mean nothing to her?

She decided to stop mourning her old life. Fortified by a desire for revenge, she found in herself a new strength to move on. She wasn't going to care. That, she thought, was going to be the best revenge of all.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Ethel, Sirius was struggling with his mixed emotions towards her. On the one hand, he didn't want to terminate his friendship with the only person who had made living his life seem worthwhile in the hellhole that had been his parents' home. On the other hand, however, they had clearly picked their alliances and they lay on opposing sides. The only sensible decision seemed to not do anything. That way, he thought, nothing could do wrong.

Minutes later, Horace Slughorn entered the classroom.

Professor Slughorn wasn't quite as old as the title would usually denote at Hogwarts. His hair was just beginning to thin and grey and his stomach to get rounder and rounder, but on that September morning, his hair and eyes were still brown, his body slim and athletic, and his smile and demeanor so friendly it immediately assuaged the nervous first-years' worst fears.

Some, however, thought that because he was so kind, he would be too weak to discipline them. Barely had the class begun, and two students were already disrupting it, much to the annoyance of others. "Give it back!" James Potter demanded amidst guffaws. Sirius seemed to be dragging thin air from his friend, laughing uproariously, his head thrown back. "I'm telling you, it was my father's! Don't tear it! You can see it after class!"

The entire class turned to the professor to see what his reaction would be. Slughorn's eyes gleamed menacingly and his nostrils flared with fury. He took a few, calming breath before reacting. His voice was now harsh and low, baring no resemblance to the previous, almost musical tenor he had used.

"Excuse me, first years," Slughorn barked suddenly, throwing a heavy book on the table to accentuate his point. Sirius and James's hearts skipped a beat, and the color drained from their face as they turned to their professor and saw his furious expression. "What exactly do you think you're doing?"

"I'm sorry, sir," James immediately said. "I'm so sorry, sir."

"It won't happen again," Sirius said, looking confused but quickly catching on. Whatever it was they were fighting over, they clearly didn't want it to be confiscated.

Ethel rolled her eyes. Of course, _now_ he was sorry. Thoroughly unimpressed, she turned back to Slughorn to observe his reaction, much like the rest of the class. Taking advantage of this momentary lack of scrutiny, James quickly and expertly slid back the Invisibility Cloak into his bag.

"Let me tell you what," Slughorn said, and the amiable tingle and kind smile were back in their place. "I would normally take off ten points for your insolence." Sirius and James gulped hard. From his tone, everyone could tell he wasn't making empty threats. "However," Horace continued. "As this is the first day of classes, I decided to be generous. Let's play a game," he said, now speaking to the entire class. "I'll ask ten questions. For all the questions you get right, I'll take off one point less. However, if you don't know the answer and someone else is able to answer, their House gets the point. As punishment for your actions, the rest of the Gryffindors may answer my questions, but they won't get points."

The Gryffindors emitted a collective groan. "Thanks, Potter!" one boy piped up. "Shut up, McLaggen!" Potter snapped irritably in response, but his eyes betrayed how embarrassed he truly felt because of his own actions.

"Now, now," Slughorn said, clapping his hands together. "Quiet down. Gryffindors, it is not just that unfair yet: think of it this way. You may not get points, but by answering, you will be able to stop the other Houses from getting points. Isn't that the whole point of the House Cup?"

According to Dumbledore, the House Point was system was implemented to motivate students to study harder and to ensure some friendly competition between the Houses. However, Slughorn was right: whatever the original Founders' intentions had been, students remained, despite all efforts, tragically and irredeemably disinterested and unmotivated and lazy, and the so-called friendly competition had long ago deteriorated into rivalry of the worst kind. Most notably between Slytherin and Gryffindor.

"So," Slughorn said, licking his lips, his eyes glimmering with excitement. "Let's start the game!"

Much to the awe of his students, he conjured a dark green chart into thin air to keep score. "Wow," the first years collectively echoed. "Oh, this is nothing," Slughorn said with badly concealed flattery. He turned to James and Sirius. "Ready, boys?"

"Yes," Sirius and James echoed nervously.

"Yes, _sir_ ," Slughorn corrected. The two boys nodded awkwardly, not understanding what was expected of them. After an uncomfortable pause, the professor impatiently added, "Now, let's hear it again, correctly this time. Are you ready for the game, boys?"

"Yes, sir!" the two boys said.

"I didn't hear that," Slughorn said, clearly enjoying himself, cupping his left ear to accentuate his point.

Sirius and James grinned, seemingly having taken a liking to this playful old man.

"Yes, sir!" the two boys yelled loudly.

"Are you?" Slughorn said, turning to the rest of the class. A few first years answered meekly. "Wow, seems like you aren't excited for this game at all. Seems like you don't want your house to gain points already on the first day…"

"No, no," the first years insisted, panicked, immediately.

"So let me hear it! Are you ready for the game?"

The first years erupted in an explosive yes.

Slughorn finally began the game.

"What does the Alihotsy Draught do?" he asked. James and Sirius exchanged glances.

"Uh, sleep?" James said at last.

Slughorn's expression darkened. "Nope. Anyone else?" he said, turning to the rest of the classroom.

The hand of a boy sitting behind Ethel shot up. He greasy, matted hair and sallow skin. He was completely unfamiliar to her.

"Yes, young boy in the back?" Slughorn asked, eyes glimmering.

"The draught causes hysteria," the boy replied.

"Very good, very good," Slughorn said. "Not even many of my OWL-level students know that! How did you know, young man?"

"I read a lot of books. I love Potions," he said, his eyes lighting up with passion for the subject.

James and Sirius began tittering between themselves, but Slughorn ignored them, so enthralled he was by this young boy.

"Great," he said. "And what's your name, just so I know who I'm rewarding the points to Slytherin thanks to?"

The hooked-nosed boy smiled smugly at the accomplishment. He both had the air of someone not used to being complemented or smiling.

"Great," Slughorn repeated, like a broken record. "One point to Slytherin!" The Slytherins cheered and clapped their newest hero on the back. Snape tried to pretend the approval didn't appeal to him as much as it clearly did, possibly to hide that he rarely was on the receiving end of accolades.

The competition continued in much the same vein, with Sirius and James and the rest of the Gryffindors completely unfamiliar with the questions asked. However, just to hurt his ex-best friend, whenever Slughorn directed a question at Sirius in particular, her hand shot up in the air quicker than Snape's. Snape seemed thoroughly irritated by this behavior, but it didn't concern Ethel the least bit that he was hurt because she was stealing his time to shine.

Sirius initially didn't understand and just looked betrayed. By the second question, he was starting to catch on, and by the fourth, he seemed furious. After the fifth, Ethel delivered the final blow:

"My, my, Sirius," she said, her voice low and venomous, her eyes glinting. "You have as much familiarity with the world of magic as Muggles." Some Slytherins giggled. "Truly, you are a disgrace." She said pitilessly, grimacing at him with faux-disgust, then turning away like she had just done her job well. By the end, the Slytherins were having a field day, all of them all too familiar with Sirius's sordid history with his parents.

The look on Sirius's face was indescribable.

Slughorn's eyes widened in complete and utter shock. "Now, silence!"

But Sirius wasn't having it. Completely overtaken by fury, Sirius's eyes widened and nostrils flared, making him look insane. "And you know what you are, Ethel?"

"If I cared about a blood traitor's opinion, I'd ask one," she snapped, her hand on her wand inside her robe. "But blood traitors don't matter and neither do their opinions."

"SILENCE!" Slughorn yelled at the top of his lungs. His face contorted with fury at the lack of discipline in his class. "Both of you, detention."

"Why am I, Professor –" Sirius began.

"Yes, why is he, Professor?" James chimed in.

"Do you want detention too, Mr. Potter?" Slughorn snapped. "You too," he said. "Wait for me, after class. I'll think of what you'll need to do for me until then. But I promise you, it will be a fun night." The malicious tingle in his eyes confirmed that he was making no empty promises.

* * *

A/N: Kind of a short chapter. I thought it was better since it's so hard on the eyes to read long texts on a screen. Hope you like it! Let me know in a review below.


End file.
